Chiaroscuro
by Child of a Pineapple
Summary: 1/2 She hadn’t realized that when that gunman had pulled his trigger, and the sound ricocheted off into the night, the bullet had burrowed its way into Charlie’s chest.


_Hello! I actually wrote this first half about six months ago, but couldn't think of a satisfying ending, so I just left it alone. But I was recently drawn back into this fandom, and decided to pick this up again. I really feel that there isn't enough whump in this fandom, so this fic is my response to that. The title is Italian for light/dark, and it's a term I learned in my art appreciation course._

**DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: I do not own _Life_, or the lyrics used in this piece. Rated for blood, violence, language, and whump.**

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_Chiaroscuro_

**PART ONE**

"_When anything that's anything becomes nothing, that's everything  
and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have."_

"_Van Helsing Boom Box" – Man Man_

It's dark. The moon's tucked her face away behind a mist of clouds as she inches her way across the sky, hurrying to finish her course in the last hours before daybreak.

When the first shot rings out, the sound reverberates through the woods, bouncing off tree and limb and echoing all the way down the ravine.

By the time Dani Reese responds, firing a second shot off into the night, the gunman lays dead, his blood spilling out to stain the leaves littering the forest floor.

"Nice," Charlie Crews comments, nodding his approval at his partner. The moment after that, his knees buckle and he hits the ground before Reese can even register the spreading red stain creeping across his shirt.

She hadn't realized that when that gunman had pulled his trigger, and the sound ricocheted off into the night, the bullet had burrowed its way into Charlie's chest.

"Crews!" She kneels beside him, scooping her hands underneath to roll him onto his back. Instinctively she feels for, and finds a pulse before grasping his chin to turn his face to hers. "Crews, look at me," she demands. "Open your eyes. Crews!"

It's two beats before his eyelids flutter, and his gaze focuses on her face. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

"You're fine," she tells him, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone. "Keep your eyes open." While she punches in the number and raises the phone to her ear with one hand, the other presses its palm to the little, round hole in Charlie's chest. Blood, bright red and sticky, clings to her skin, coating her palm and seeping into the cuff of her shirt.

She's expecting the shrill sounds of ringing from the other end of the line, but all she gets are two sharp bleatings. She pulls the phone away and reads the words "call failed" spelled out in neat lines across the screen. Neat like the entry wound the bullet's carved out of Charlie's flesh, the one that's still pumping blood, no matter how hard she presses.

"Damn," Reese mutters, rocking back on her heels. She slips out of her jacket and presses the fabric against the wound, because nothing else is working and she's got to try something.

Apparently Charlie finds his voice, because he looks up at her and asks "No signal?"

"You're fine," she tells him again. It's not an answer, but she really doesn't know what else to say. "Don't talk," she adds, then, "And don't close your eyes."

"I didn't," he protests, wrenching his lids open.

"Good." But the blood still isn't stopping, a relentless cruor despite all her efforts. She shifts, trying to add more force, and Charlie's breath hitches. "Sorry."

He doesn't answer.

"Where's your phone?" she demands, and her voice is a little shakier than she'd like to admit. But the noise gets Crews to open his lids once more, and he motions with a hand.

"Pocket," he offers, and then Reese is fishing around in his jacket. Her fingers clasp around the object in question, and she pulls it free. But once again the call fails to go through, and Dani forgets why she thought that plan would work in the first place. She considers getting up to look for a better signal, but she'd have to leave Crews to do that, and he's already lost so much blood – it's coating her hands and it's under her nails and _fuck,_ she thinks it's even in her hair.

Still, though…she knows he won't last long either way, and she has to get help, she just has to. So she lets her hand drop, grabbing Charlie's wrist and guiding it so he can press his own palm against the wound. "I'll be right back," she promises, moving to rise. But Charlie's other hand finds a grip on her forearm, and he holds her still.

"Where're you going?" he asks, staring at her. There's something in his eyes that strikes her, and her throat constricts when she realizes that it's _fear._

"I've got to find a signal," she explains as calmly as she can, brandishing the phone with her free hand. "I'll be right back. Just don't close your eyes."

He watches her for a moment longer before finally relinquishing his hold and nodding once. She shoots to her feet after that, rushing off into the briars and bramble, desperately hoping the damn phone will start working.

But the minutes tick by, and she's already wandered further from Charlie than she wants to. It doesn't help that she's in the middle of a goddamn forest, and her nerves are shot to hell, because with every snapping twig her heart leaps out of her chest. And still no signal.

When she makes it back to the clearing, she has to step over the body of the gunman, the one who started this whole mess—

But all of a sudden that doesn't matter, because that's when Reese catches sight of Charlie again, and a pit collects in her stomach.

He's managed to prop himself up against a tree somehow, and his head is bowed and his blood-stained hand has fallen away and dammit, he's closed his eyes. And Reese isn't close enough to tell for sure, but she doesn't think he's breathing.

She doesn't really remember closing the gap, but suddenly she's kneeling by his side again, one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping his cheek. She glimpses the shallow rise and fall of his chest, but he's just so still…

"Crews?" _Open your eyes, open your eyes, dammit Crews, open your eyes. _"Look at me!"

She counts the seconds in her head until he finally responds, his eyelids peeling back to reveal the orbs underneath. They're glassy and unfocused, but they train on Dani's face all the same. She doesn't say a word, she simply reaches for her discarded jacket and reapplies pressure. She tries not to think about the way the blood's drenching Charlie's shirt, or that pale sheen that's taken to his features.

"I told you not to close your eyes," she says instead, eyes down as she works to swallow the lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Did you…?"

"Yeah," Dani lies quickly. "I called. They're coming."

She risks a glance upwards to meet his gaze, and in that instant she knows that _he _knows she's lying. Maybe it's to humor her, or just because he doesn't have anything better to do, but he plays along.

"Have you ever thought about it," he asks, shifting a little -- a grimace of pain flickers across his features. "Dying, I mean?"

"Nobody's dying," Reese replies firmly, digging her palms in a little harder to prove the point.

"That's not true," Charlie counters, breathless. "Lots of people are dying. Right now. All over the world."

Reese looks up again, meeting his gaze once more. "Not you," she tells him seriously. And she means it.

Crews doesn't say anything, but the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile. His eyelids tumble closed—

"Look at me," she orders him, and he complies, eyes flying open once more. Tremors have set in, wracking his body – Reese isn't sure if it's because of the blood loss, or the chilly, bitter wind that's whispering through the trees.

After a moment of thought she rises, then slides herself back behind Charlie, resting against the tree. She leans him back, shifting to support him before snaking her hand around front to press the jacket against the wound. She can feel each shuddering breath he takes, and she can only hope that somebody finds them soon. She'd called for back-up just as they'd burst into the forest, hot on the trail of the gunman – they should be showing up any second now. There was probably a search party, combing through the brush, looking for them. They'd find her car, parked on the edge of the woods, and realize that they'd pursued the suspect on foot, deeper and deeper into the yawning expanse of the forest.

But that won't matter if she can't keep him awake. And judging by the way his eyelids keep drooping, she's fighting a losing battle.

"Hey." She presses down harder. "You can't close your eyes."

But he's quiet, and that scares her almost as much as all that blood.

"Crews." She shakes his shoulder. "Charlie."

Silence. Dreading what she'll find, she feels for a pulse. To her relief, his heartbeat thrums beneath her fingers, but it's fading away with every ounce of blood that escapes his body. His breathing is shallow, too, and ragged. And he still won't open his eyes.

She can't leave him, not now, so she sits and waits and hopes that help is on the way. The night presses in all around her, smothering and suffocating, so she pulls Charlie closer and tries to ignore that slick feeling of blood. So much blood – she shakes her head to chase the thought away. He's fine, he'll be fine.

A siren wails in the distance, and Charlie stops breathing.

**TBC**

_The second half should be up in a few days -- I am doing NaNoWriMo, but for some reason I keep writing fic instead of my novel._

_Please review -- this is my first attempt in this fandom, so I'd really appreciate the feedback._

_Thanks_

**_Child of a Pineapple_**


End file.
